


The Maiden and the Hunt

by bluebright_l



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, First Time, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:37:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebright_l/pseuds/bluebright_l
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne and Hyle. Idk, if you've read any of my fics, you know I hate writing these.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Maiden and the Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kink meme prompt found here: http://mockyrfears.livejournal.com/2421.html

Sex had never been in her plans, had never even been something to hope for, really, Brienne mused as she waited for Hyle and Pod outside the inn. And yet...and yet, what had happened last night, and the night before that... Her ears were burning, and she knew she was blushing furiously, despite the chill in the air.   
  
The first time had been an accident. _It had to’ve been,_ she told herself. They’d been sleeping rough, out under a shelter made of fallen branches, no protection from anything, really, except maybe being seen from the road. There was _just_ enough room for two of them, as it turned out, and Pod refused, his stammer becoming downright painful to listen to. That was the first time... Well, she’d touched herself before, in bathing or dressing, but never... The way his hand had brushed across her breast, just a glancing touch, but enough that her nipples hardened. She told herself it was the cold. And when he was pressed against her arse, hard and hot, _Gods, he was hot_ , one hand grasping her hip, well, that was because of the cold too. And when she’d pressed back, arching her back slightly, not knowing what else to do, how to act, the warmth had been reason enough.  
  
“S-ser? My l-lady?” Pod’s familiar stutter broke through her reverie like a stone thrown into a pond. _Not a very calm pond,_ she thought wryly. Her thoughts could not be more disturbed. He’d taken the bridle of her horse. “There is a r-room. P-please, go. I’ll unsaddle t-the horses.”  
  
“My thanks, Pod. I’ll see you in a bit,” she said, hopping down and patting her horse’s muzzle affectionately. But she paused when he shook his head, dark hair falling in his eyes. “No?”  
  
“N-no, my lady. Ser.” He was blushing almost as much as her now. “T-there’s only the one b-b-bed.” He turned and bolted, her horse whinnying in surprise as he fairly pulled it along.  
 _  
Oh gods..._ Her thoughts drifted back to where they’d been before Pod had interrupted them, where they’d been constantly for the past two days, as she mounted the dusty stairs of the inn. Last night...even _she_ could not delude herself that that was an accident. It had started out the same as the night before, under a crude shelter, with cold stars and a meager fire their only light. Pod had taken to climbing a tree to sleep, and so she and Hyle had huddled together for warmth again. It had been much the same, the glancing touches, the foreign heat of him against her back, but that time...  
  
Brienne felt a slight tremor in her knees, a wobble, and she would’ve laughed, if it hadn’t been so decidedly not funny. _The Maid of Tarth, a woman warrior, once of King Renly Baratheon’s Rainbow Guard, weak at the knees. For a man who once made sport of your maidenhood. Pathetic, that’s what it is._ But she couldn’t forget the way his hand had slipped down her breeches, fingers finding a little nub of flesh that had made her gasp and rock back against him hard. Neither of them had said a word, but Brienne hadn’t been able to help the small cries she’d given voice to. Hyle’s mouth had been pressed to her neck, his strangled moan passing through her flesh in a way that, oddly, reminded her of the shiver of steel on steel, a sword meeting armour.  
  
Brienne shook her head; the innkeep, mousey and wet-eyed, was looking at her expectantly. “I’m sorry, what?”   
  
The grey little man looked up at her, even though he was standing two steps above her on the stairway. “I said, my girl’s got a bath waitin’ for you. Your man’s gone out back to have his in the stables...said he didn’t want to wait none.”  
  
Brienne opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again as the man simply turned and led her on up the stairs. He didn’t care that Hyle wasn’t “her man”, as she had been about to protest. And really, what did it matter? She was tired...tired of the road, of this never-ending search, of holding herself apart from others, of being alone. Let Hyle say what he wanted to say, she wasn’t going to bother refuting it, at least not tonight. She smiled wearily and thanked the innkeep when he bowed and left her at the room.  
  
The bath was lukewarm, but Brienne noticed a slight lavender fragrance when she climbed in, and the tub was massive enough that she fit in it only slightly uncomfortably. She washed off the grime of the road brusquely, trying to ignore the way her nipples tightened when she stood, dripping wet, to reach for the rag that would serve as a towel. She dried off quickly, the chill in the air all the motivation needed, but then she was brought up short. Her clothing was filthy, and she was so clean now... She glanced at the single bed in the room, more of a cot really, stuffed with straw and not looking so clean itself. _And Hyle..._ Brienne’s gut twisted, but not unpleasantly, and she felt a sudden slickness at the juncture of her legs. _Come to your senses, woman,_ she told herself, but even her internal voice sounded weak to her.  
  
Resolutely, she put her clothing back on, leaving off only her boots and stockings, and climbed into the bed. She pulled the mangy blanket up to her chin, and sighed when she felt the cool night air around her feet and shins. Twisting this way and that, she managed to get comfortable, but she could not ignore the ache between her thighs any longer. It seemed to Brienne that she could feel her heartbeat fluttering there, and she reached down tentatively, curious if Hyle had been able to feel her pulse when he had touched her. She caught her breath when she pressed lightly on that sweet spot that Hyle had found the night before, her fingertip stroking in small circles as he had. It was wet and slippery, and she realized faintly she was arching her back as if needing something, _someone_ , behind her.  
  
No sooner had she had the thought than Hyle came through the door, and Brienne thought madly that if the gods were kind they would let her just die right then and there. But of course the Seven had never answered her prayers, why would they now? Hyle was staring at her so oddly, it was as if she could feel his gaze caressing her skin, and her finger was still slip, slip, slipping over the spot she’d found, and her pulse was pounding in her ears...  
  
Before she knew what was happening, Hyle was crossing to the bed, stripping off his damp shirt and tossing it aside. Randomly, she noticed the sparse hair on his chest was darker than that of his head, and then he was sliding under the cover with her, front to front, unlike those nights on the road.  
  
“Brienne,” he breathed, and she closed her eyes when his lips touched hers. His lips were dry and chapped, but she’d never kissed a man before, never in her life, and it was better than she’d guessed, even with the chapped lips. She’d taken her hand from her breeches, but now she didn’t know what to do with it, so she rested it gingerly on his hip. The resulting moan that passed from Hyle’s lips, and into her own mouth, startled her. When his tongue followed shortly thereafter, probing her mouth urgently, it was Brienne who moaned, to her intense embarrassment.   
  
They were both lying on their sides, bodies just touching, but upon hearing her moan, Hyle pressed Brienne to her back with his body. She had the presence of mind to think, _how strange, to be below a man_ , remembering the way she’d pinned Loras Tyrell at the tourney so long ago, and then Hyle was fumbling with both their laces, and she snapped back to reality.  
  
“H-hyle, please, I can’t...” He looked up, face slack with desire, and she wondered _Why? Why me?_ , but she just shook her head at him. “The _Maid_ of Tarth, remember? Please...” Brienne hated the way that last “please” came out, so quavery and...needy. She was strong, she told herself, she did not _need_ this.  
  
“Brienne, I-” Hyle stopped, licked his lips, and started again, and she felt his fingers under her shirt, at the edge of her breeches. “If I swear by the Seven I won’t take your maidenhood, will you let me continue?”  
  
She blinked, trying to understand. “Like...what we did on the road?”  
  
His smile was what undid her, in the end. It was amused and sweet, and it made her want to kiss him again. “Not quite...but I promise you’ll enjoy it.”  
  
“Very well, then,” Brienne said shyly, trying not to gasp as she felt his manhood, _cock, the men-at-arms on Tarth always called it a cock_ , throb against her hip.  
  
And before she could even draw a shaky breath, Hyle was working her breeches down, feathering kisses along the firm muscles of her lower stomach. Brienne was trembling...she thought she understood what he meant to do now, and she hadn’t known that was even _done_. He’d gotten her breeches off completely, her smalls following in short order, and her legs parted for him instinctively. For a moment, all she felt was his breath, hot on her thigh, and then, _gods above, is he really...?_ his tongue was on her, and Brienne couldn’t help it, she cried out.  
  
The sound of her own voice startled her, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, blue eyes wide as Hyle looked up at her. She couldn’t see his mouth, but somehow she could tell he was smiling. _You can tell because you can_ feel _it_ , and it was true, what she told herself. She could feel his lips curving upwards as he licked at her, and Brienne’s hips began to roll against his mouth, another instinct, she thought, as much as she could still think.  
  
After a moment, she trusted herself enough to take her hand away from her mouth, panting slightly, but more in control. Hyle had lowered his head again, and his tongue was doing things she’d never even imagined, but _oh, so good..._ Without thinking, she let a hand fall, threading rough fingers in his soft, brown hair, and arched her back, hips lifting off the bed. He kept a hand on her as she rocked against him, as if to hold her in place, but she wasn’t trying to get away, far from it.  
  
Brienne had no idea how long they’d been there, in this small, drab room at the end of a narrow, drab hall...maybe minutes, maybe days. Time had become an abstract concept, as had anything besides the feel of his tongue, and lips, and _oh sweet Mother, did he just...?_ yes, teeth, too. The gentle scrape of his teeth against that swollen nub of flesh, made her cry out again, sharply this time, and she felt him moan against her. Brienne arched hard, the sensations becoming almost overwhelming, but she only tightened her grip in Hyle’s hair, holding him in place as he brought her off, wave after wave of pleasure wracking her. _I never...I didn’t think it was..._  
  
When she was able to form coherent thought again, she released his hair, worrying her lower lip. _What if I hurt him? Or I did it wrong? Oh gods, I know I did it wrong..._ But Hyle merely rested his chin on her belly, smiling up at her. In the back of her mind, Brienne realized that the dampness on his face, and now on her belly, was from her, but his smile was so distracting.   
  
“Well,” he said, “I-”  
  
“Shh,” she interrupted, smiling back finally. “Just...shh.”  
  
Hyle laughed softly. “As you wish, Brienne.”


End file.
